


Time Tends to Mess Back

by astronomical_alien



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Fluff and Angst, Irondad, Maybe - Freeform, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, spiderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26151055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astronomical_alien/pseuds/astronomical_alien
Summary: They had lost. Half of humanity must’ve turned to dust just like Strange and Quill did. No words could encompass the fear and the uncertainty the knowledge of that came with. Tony knew grief would set in at some point, but for now he looked down at the kid that had miraculously been spared and thanked whatever force of luck let that happen.ORI hop on the bandwagon and write an AU in which Peter survives the snap
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Time Tends to Mess Back

**Author's Note:**

> I love this concept too much not to take a stab at it even though it's been done before. I hope you enjoy!   
> Its angsty as hell, but what else can you expect from a fic dealing with both Infinity War and Endgame plot lines lmao

It was nauseating. The sixth sense Peter had developed after the spider bite had never been so prominent. It felt like pins and needles all over his body, a physical alarm sounding that something was wrong, danger was near. In his mind, red lights were flashing.

The planet was quiet, somehow more so than before. They all stood there: Mr. Stark, the wizard, the spaceman and his crew. They were all listening to the silence - the absence of a battle. Time had passed since Thanos had gotten away. But with the strange wind picking up on the alien planet and the deafening silence filling everyone’s ears, his presence had suddenly returned.

Peter wanted to say something to Tony. Describe the danger he felt was impending. But before words could find their way to his mouth something began to happen.

The girl with the antennae, the most alien looking of the bunch in Peter’s eyes, said something and then her body began to fall apart. It drifted away like ash rising from flames of a fire or dust kicked up in the wind.

The pins and needles trying to alert Peter of this very thing grew into a buzzing in his temples. It was a chilling feeling of confirmation that this was the thing to fear. This was the danger. And it was horrific.

Peter felt every muscle in his body freeze as the big guy covered in red markings was next to crumble apart. His heart started racing, wondering if his sixth sense was trying to tell him that he was next. The nausea from before swept over him with the force of a 6-foot tidal wave. As Starlord began to disappear, Peter’s body began to tremble. Was it because he was terrified or was his body beginning to turn to dust?

Doctor Strange was next. The dustings were happening like clockwork, one after the other, allowing just enough time to process what was happening.

He said something to Mr. Stark, but Peter couldn’t hear. His brain was certain he was next. His nerves were on fire. His self-proclaimed spider-sense wasn’t settling as Dr. Stranger blew away.

“Mr. Stark,” Words finally pushed out of his mouth.

Tony turned to him with an expression Peter never wanted to see on his mentor’s face again – fear. It was the only time in the two years he’d known Tony that an emotion had ever been so raw and easy to read on his face. And Peter hated it. He hated to know that Tony was just as scared as him. Because that meant there was no control over what was happening.

If Peter was going to disappear, Tony couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t move mountains like he usually did and make things alright.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said again, voice practically missing, “I don’t feel so good.”

And it was true. He felt like he could throw up. He felt like his body was going to fall apart into nothingness any second.

He was going to die.

And with that thought, his legs gave out, sending him forward before the planet’s gravity started pulling him down. Tony caught him before he could hit the dusty ground. Supported by Tony’s hold, Peter stared at the planets dirty, dusty face, and suddenly feared that he would soon blend in with it.

“You’re okay,” Tony said. But Peter could hear a franticness in his voice.

He helped get Peter safely to the ground. Peter laid down, trying to catch his breath and make the buzzing go away. Panic had burrowed into his heart as he waited to disappear like the rest of them.

Tony placed a hand on Peter’s chest, either trying to ground the kid or trying to convince himself that Peter was really going to be okay. Peter, desperate to stay, gripped Tony’s arm. And they maintained their positions for a moment, like statues. After another beat passed, the reaping breeze died away and the buzzing in Peter’s brain went with it. The residual unease of his nerves, what caused them to seem so extreme and make him certain he was going to become ash, he realized had been fear. Tony realized too, that whatever killed the others, wasn’t going to be taking Peter.

“You’re okay,” He said again.

This time Peter could hear a promise in Tony’s voice, a reassuring protection that helped him calm down.

Tony slumped back a little, side aching and locked muscles easing their tension, and let out a defeated breath. He scanned the empty planet, eyes lingering on the spots where his rag-tag teammates stood only moments ago. The blue woman was still there, head hung low and face dark, but that seemed to be a permanent expression with her.

When she realized that Tony was staring at her, she said, “He did it. He won.” And boy did Tony know it.

They had lost. Half of humanity must’ve turned to dust just like Strange and Quill did. No words could encompass the fear and the uncertainty the knowledge of that came with. Tony knew grief would set in at some point, but for now he looked down at the kid that had miraculously been spared and thanked whatever force of luck let that happen.

Peter sat up, pale-faced and teary-eyed. His hand was still gripping Tony’s arm as he looked to his mentor. He felt stuck in time, brain still trying to put together the event that had just unfolded, the decimation of half of the universe’s populations. He hadn’t been able to process Nebula’s words or the dustings of the team.

“What happened?” He asked, still shaking from the effects of fear, shock, and his spidersense.

Tony didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. Saying it out loud would just confirm their new reality and that was something neither him nor Peter wanted to hear. Instead, he pulled Peter close into an embrace that had been two years in the waiting and Peter let the tears spill over.

***

If circumstances were different, Peter would’ve been reeling about living in space. Seeing a foreign galaxy out of a spaceship’s window every morning, feeling pockets of zero-G, and navigating the cosmos was something straight out of Star Wars. Ned would be ecstatic to hear his report of space-living. But he wasn’t as much living as he was surviving.

They were 23 days in. Peter, Tony, and Nebula drifting in space. Things had started out okay. Nebula and Peter combined efforts to patch Tony up and then the three of them got the ship working. But their luck was quick to drain. The ship ran out of gas and oxygen was next in line to run out.

“I don’t understand why you don’t tell him,” Nebula said, eyes piercing, though Tony had come to learn that she never not carried herself in such a way.

They were sat at a table covered in attempted plans to save their skins. All had failed to be fruitful and to soften the blow, Tony busied himself and Nebula with a game of paper football. Peter was off in what was formerly Peter Quill’s bunk, getting some much-needed rest. It was about all the kid could do. Between his superhuman metabolism keeping him hungry and his enhanced healing keeping him alive, the kid was constantly exhausted.

“It’s a courtesy,” Tony tried to explain, “Humans don’t like to tell other humans bad news. And if they can spare each other from hearing it, they do.”

There was much more to it than that, of course. Tony couldn’t bare the idea of telling Peter they only had a day. Well really, it was Tony who had just a day. Peter had more fight left in him, being a Spider-kid and all. His system could go without air longer than Tony. Hypoxia could be delayed for the kid up to two days judging from what he remembered from Friday’s reports on Peter’s abilities.

“That’s deception,” Nebula said as if making an accusation.

“What? You’re always honest?” Tony shot back.

Nebula nodded solemnly in response, “Every word. There’s no reason to hide things.”

Tony shook his head, as if reminiscing on all the little lies he’s told. Things he’s said to comfort people that held no ground. Like telling Peter he was okay when he had no clue if the kid was going to disappear or not. The sick feeling that pitted out Tony’s stomach at the memory made him shudder. He never wanted to be in that predicament again. Peter in danger and no way to save him. And yet, here they were. Floating in space, galaxies away from home.

Tony sighed.

“I have to tell him,” He said, game of finger-football long forgotten after Nebula’s win. “I just don’t feel like I can do it.” He admitted.

Tony wasn’t one to speak so openly, but time was running out, and Nebula wasn’t going to offer empty words to cushion the hard situation. He liked that about her. She doesn’t deal with any bullshit.

“I can tell him,” She offered, making it sound like the return of a debt for her football score. 

Tony mustered up half a smile and shook his head. “I’ll handle it. I think your delivery style doesn’t line up with the kid’s.”

An hour later, Tony was sitting in the frame of a window, stars slowly passing by as the ship wandered towards earth. He’d just finished recording through the remnants of the Iron Man helmet, missing parts from the battle and repairs for Nebula. He hoped Pepper would get the message at some point. He hoped she was still alive. She had to be.

He felt numb, unsure about how to feel about dying so far away from everything. About dying when things were going so good. Retirement had just been coming into the picture, he was nixing suits for Pepper, Peter was becoming a bigger part of his life to the point where he finally felt prepared enough to want a kid of his own.

And now it was all coming to an end, surprisingly in a way that felt premature. Which was odd to Tony, because in his younger days he thought death was around every corner.

Peter appeared before Tony’s mind could wander too far.

“Hey Space Cadet,” He greeted.

Peter didn’t say anything. He took a seat next to the man and gazed out the glass, taking in the universe. His hair was tousled from fitful sleep and he looked hollow, cheeks slightly sunken in and eyes tired. But he still managed his usual beaming smile. Somehow, he persevered with his usual chipper Peter Parker attitude and Tony admired the kid for that.

They sat in silence for a moment. Peter, with knees tucked against his chest, soaked up Tony’s warmth as they were nearly pressed side to side. The thing he liked least about space was how cold it was. Tony pondered on his conversation with Nebula and started tinkering with how to break the news to the kid.

Eventually, he drew in a breath and out came the truth.

“I hate to surprise you, kid,” Tony said, “but we aren’t looking to good on O2.”

Peter barely bothered a glance at Tony. “I know.” He said. “I’ve been watching the monitor in the cockpit. Did the math. We’ve got three days, right?”

Tony couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. The kid always found a way to make him feel stupid. Of course the kid knew. Peter’s brilliant. Why wouldn’t he have considered the fact that the breathable air on the ship was finite?

Another breath was drawn in. “ _You’ve_ got three days. And Nebula probably has longer since she’s practically a cyborg.” Tony tried to sound casual with his next words, “I’ve got about one.”

The sentence elicited a remarkably animated response from Peter. His head whipped in Tony’s direction, eyes wide.

“I did the math,” He stated as if it would change what Tony said.

“You did the math for you,” Tony said lightly, poking Peter’s arm with his hand in a point.

Peter retraced his steps, the daily checking of the monitor and food rationing. All the surviving they’d been doing. Somehow, he biffed remembering that they were all surviving at different rates. Nebula was alien and accustomed to getting by in the unforgiving conditions being stranded in space offered and Peter himself had regeneration. His body was constantly healing whatever was shutting down and he could ride an oxygen decrease longer than normal. But Tony…

Peter suddenly felt sick. The fear that had rattled him on Titan suddenly pricked at his nerves again, dizziness sweeping over him. The idea of Tony being gone by tomorrow was unfathomable.

“That can’t be right,” Peter tried to bargain, “We can figure something out – maybe if we-“

“It’s okay, kid,” Tony said, too calm for Peter’s liking.

Peter could only look at him utterly bewildered.

“It’s not okay,” He said firmly.

It wasn’t. But there was nothing they could do about it.

“As long as you get out of here, it’s okay,” Tony said, voice hardening like it always does when he makes a promise. He was trying to give Peter hope. Because he wouldn’t be able to rest peacefully if he thought the kid was going to be right behind him.

“Three days is enough time to go back over the blueprints and brainstorm,” Now his voice turned serious. He left no room for arguing.

“We can do that _now_ ,” Peter said, but he knew it was hopeless. He knew he was only trying to convince himself, the way Tony had done on Titan, that this was fixable. Because in their nature, they were both fixers. 

Tony had never been in this situation before. Openly near death and stuck with a loved one. Sure, he’s nearly died an alarmingly ample amount of times. But never in a way so condemning and final. And never with someone right at his side who he cared about, who knew exactly what was happening. He wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was.

“Maybe you’ll be more motivated to think your way back to Earth if you know what my will leaves you,” He joked. Resorting to humor was a default. It was in bad taste, but he couldn’t help it.

Peter glared at him.

“Not funny,” He said.

“Fine,” Tony said, throwing his hands up, “I won’t leave you Stark Industries. I’ll give it to Friday.”

Peter snorted a little at the line, but his eyes were starting to sting. He was overwhelmed and certainly panicked. Then those feelings merged into anger. He stared at Tony, with tears pooling over, and said, “You can’t leave me here alone.”

He could see how the words struck Tony. They went straight through the man’s heart like shrapnel. His face momentarily furrowed in an expression of sorrow that was quickly smoothed over by a strong façade.

“You won’t be alone. You’ve got Smurfette for company. I’m sure she’ll lighten up a little,” He said, again trying to lift spirits with humor. But at the same time he was pulling Peter into his arms. Because watching the kid breakdown was breaking him apart just the same.

***

At some point sleep had settled in. It had caught them both and they remained nestled in the spot at the window for a few hours. When Peter woke up, he found that Tony was slumped against the glass, looking pale and uncomfortably close to death. He panicked before noticing the rise and fall of Tony’s chest and the fact that there was _some_ color in his cheeks. Peter let out a shaky breath, a rising of grief sinking back down in his chest.

He shook Tony a little, but the man didn’t stir much, and fear started to creep in. _This is really it,_ Peter thought.

“Mr. Stark,” He said quietly, giving another shake.

Tony didn’t even mutter a response. No retort or sarcastic remark about being disturbed. Peter sank back a little, unsure of what to do.

“He’ll be lethargic and most likely incoherent, or at least confused, for the rest of what he has left,” A voice said, bluntly but with attempted kindness.

Peter looked over his shoulder to find Nebula standing a few feet away. She must’ve been there for a while since his enhanced hearing hadn’t heard her arrival. He wondered for a moment if she had feared they had both been laying there dead.

He blinked his eyes at her, trying to evaporate the mist in them.

“We should put him in the pilot’s seat,” he said with more strength than he expected. “That’s the nicest view.”

Nebula didn’t comment, only nodded and walked forward to help Peter pull Tony onto his feet and together they moved him into the cockpit where he was comfortably sat in the seat that once used to hold Quill during the Guardians’ adventures.

Peter had heard a few tales from Nebula when he asked the right questions to get stories out of her. He had taken a liking to the spot knowing who used to sit there. It felt right for Tony to take the same seat – after all he was a leader.

Tony livened up a little, but it was clear hypoxia was setting in. He began to chat as if it was just another day in space, but Peter wasn’t sure how much the man was actually understanding of the situation.

Tony’s eyes landed on the kid after saying some off-hand remarks about the ship to Nebula, and he said hoarsely,

“You’ve got work to do, kid. You’ve gotta fix this piece of junk.”

“I can wait,” Peter said, unsure of how long Tony had. Certainly a good handful of hours, but how could he be sure?

Tony shook his head minutely. “It’s okay. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Tears sprung to Peter’s eyes and he was suddenly glad Tony was trying to get him out of there because he couldn’t stay. The thought of this really happening, of losing Tony, was too much. He bid a pinched goodbye and moved to the other room below deck. Nebula remained momentarily. Tony gave her a nod, but was too exhausted to say anything else. She placed a hand on his shoulder – a thank you – and then she trailed after Peter.

Minutes later, they sat at the table together. There was no Tony or game of finger-football, just Peter and Nebula. She tried to fill the absence by drafting some more plans and Peter filled the time just staring blankly at her hands. His eyes occasionally glistened with tears, but he bade them away every time. Nebula silently admired his strength, but at the same time she wished he would mourn. She knew humans needed to. She’d learned that through Quill.

At some point she suggested for him to eat, but he refuted. She thought about offering words of comfort, but she didn’t know how. Finally, she maneuvered an action of comfort she’d often observed in Mantis or Gamora. She reached out across the table and placed a hand over Peter’s and that seemed to be enough for him.

Their solace was interrupted what felt like hours, but only minutes, later when the ship was abruptly jostled.

Peter was quick to look to Nebula for an explanation, but she looked just as perplexed.

“There’s no asteroid field here,” she said, knowing most space blunders occurred from such cosmic happenings.

A sudden glow began to warm through the windows, the source coming from the ladder leading up to the cockpit. Peter and Nebula moved quickly and when they reached where Tony was, they found out what had caused the bump.

At the sight, Peter was sure hypoxia was setting in for him too. A lack of oxygen must’ve been making him confused, maybe he was even hallucinating, because outside of the glass dome of the cockpit, in the vacuum of space, was a woman.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!   
> I have a part two in the works and there might even be a part three depending on how things go - so stay tuned!


End file.
